Perpetual Flirting
by ADoubtfulGuest
Summary: 'It's classic,' she explains, seeing the look on his face. 'The role reversal here is almost unbearable. Don't I usually get drunk and ask you to have sex with me . . .' In which Remus is uncharacteristically drunk and realizations about love are made.


Admittedly, she is used to being the embarrassingly drunk one.

It's not as though it happens particularly often, but, well, she can only watch Sirius drink alone for so long before she joins him. And on the nights when Remus is away, she can hardly be blamed for joining her cousin.

Of course, that only leads to her being plastered around Remus, which only makes things worse than usual. It's a terribly violent and emotional cycle which leads to her drinking again, and repeating the process.

But tonight, he is the one who appears to be splendidly hammered, and she finds herself thinking that it's a nice change. That's not to say that he stumbles like a fool and flirts with her relentlessly - no, not Remus. Even roaring drunk, he can't manage to be nearly as uncouth as she can. But his eyes are swimming and his words are a bit slurred, and when he wanders into the kitchen of Grimauld Place with his hair just slightly more mussed than usual, she nearly dies from laughter.

"I never laugh at you when you're drunk," he complains, and she marvels through her giggles at how articulate he is even now.

"No," she replies, controlling herself and attempting a straight face, "You're far too polite for that. On that note, though, might I ask why you're so tipsy?"

He walks to the dining table, across the kitchen from where she is leaning against the counter, and sits down heavily. "There're an awful lot of reasons," he slurs softly.

"Feel like sharing?"

"No."

She nods, and understands it as one of those Remus-things that is simply best left alone.

"Feel like sobering up?" she asks, kneeling down to search through the many cupboards, "Sirius always has some sort of kill or cure potion hanging around . . ."

"No," he says again, and his voice is muffled against his arms, where he has rested his head.

"Fine," she shrugs, abandoning her search and grabbing a soda instead, "But if you don't bite the bullet now, you'll suffer for it in the morning." Remus simply shakes his head, and blinks his tired eyes.

"What's the use of getting drunk if I can't even enjoy it for a bit?"

She stifles another laugh. "Oh, you're enjoying yourself, are you?" She raises an eyebrow at him, and the smallest of impulsive smiles escapes from his lips.

"Not yet. N- . . . Ny- . . ." He appears to be trying to utter her name, but the words aren't quite making it from his mind to his mouth. "_Tonks_," he finally settles, continuing to look at her. She raises her eyebrow again, focusing mostly on refraining from hysterical laughing. "You should stay here tonight," he finishes, and she realizes that his hazel eyes have turned darker, to a more liquid-gold color.

And even though she has dreamed of him saying those words for months now, she finds that at this, she can hold the laughter in no longer. He goes from looking serious to looking utterly confused as she breaks out into long awaited giggles.

"It's classic," she explains, seeing the look on his face, "The role reversal here is almost unbearable. Don't I usually get drunk and ask you to have sex with me?"

He sighs before responding, "Yes, and you're usually more straightforward, as well. Obviously. I suppose one of us has to be the responsible one, or who knows what may happen."

"I sort of like being the responsible one for once," she says, trying to pretend that she doesn't know _exactly_ what may happen, "It gives my self-esteem a while to recover."

"That's a no, then?" he asks honestly, looking so much like a lonely stray that she nearly caves.

"Remus Lupin, I'm shocked. I wouldn't sleep with you while you're drunk."

"You'd sleep with me while _you're _drunk," he says slowly, as if solving an equation out loud, "but not while I'm drunk?"

"It's logistics, or basic law, or something. Thou shalt not lie with one who is drunker than thou."

He seems to be taking her rather seriously, and responds, "There's a simple solution to that, you know. You could get just as drunk as I am."

She laughs again, thinking that he's a much more entertaining drunk than she had expected. "No," she says, holding up her soda, "I'm sticking to soft drinks tonight, I think. No drunk sex. Or half-drunk sex. Or whatever it would be."

"Well," he continues, "We could say that the next time you drunkenly come on to me, I won't push you away, and then we could take that into account tonight, and act in advance so we don't have to wait until the next time that you drunkenly come on to me."

"Yes, because that makes an awful lot of sense."

"I could get sober," he suggests, shooting a glance at the cupboard she had previously been digging in. She wonders momentarily if he realizes how difficult he is making this for her, or how badly she wants to simply accept his offer and finally pass the state of perpetual flirting. Flirting, she thinks, is nice in its place, but gets old rather quickly once you begin falling in love with the man you're flirting with.

She shakes that thought out of her head rapidly. "Then we'd be having very sober sex," she says, still mentally chastizing herself for using the term In Love pertaining to him when it only ever lets her down.

"Yes," he says, sounding thoughtful. "It's been a while since I've had very sober sex."

"That's something you'll regret saying when you're very sober."

They laugh together, and she thinks about how good it feels to laugh with him, even if he is plastered. This could go somewhere very easily, she thinks; a few conversations with both parties sober might actually advance them past perpetual flirting. With this hope, she begins to make her way out of the kitchen, running her fingers fondly through his hair as she goes.

"No," she laughs, "I think I'll just leave you to enjoy being drunk on your own tonight. Think of it as payback. I'll see you in the morning."

And he watches her as she goes, thinking that perhaps it is time to stop this benign flirting.

After all, flirting is a fine thing, in its place, but it is only getting him so far with the woman he is beginning to falling in love with.

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**A/N**: Okay, yes. I'll admit it. I absolutely adore the idea of a drunken Remus obliviously letting go of his normal formalities.

I also adore the idea of Tonks and Remus being close enough friends that they're pretty up front about nearly everything. I can see them being that kind of couple that can balance being lovers and best friends, and are consequently perfect.

Yes, I am a romantic. But I can't help it.


End file.
